


This Town Ain't Big Enough for Arthur

by NaughtyBees



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption 2 (Video Games)
Genre: Albert has an obvious crush on Arthur, Bank Robbery, Blood, Cowboy Antics, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Macro/Micro, Snark, Tenderness, Theft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27880314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtyBees/pseuds/NaughtyBees
Summary: Arthur Morgan has no idea how he's grown so huge, a veritable giant. But he has.Dutch, as always, has a plan.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 50





	1. Well, That Happened

**Author's Note:**

> First Red Dead fic! If you'd like to see more, leave a comment!

"A-Arthur?" 

Grumbling, the outlaw pulled his hat over his eyes to shield them from the sun. He didn't want to get up, despite the voice in his ear. 

"Arthur! Wake up!" It was Charles. He didn't mind waking up for Charles. Blinking, he yawned and tried to roll onto his side, only to hear Charles cry out. 

Jolting awake, he sat up, looking around for his friend. "Where are you?" He asked, still bleary from sleep. He noticed that he wasn't in the same place he was when he went to sleep; beside an abandoned cabin in the middle of the plains. However, when he looked down at where he had laid his head, he saw a crushed pile of wood and stone. Was that…surely not… 

It confirmed it, however, when he felt a nudge by his leg, looking down to see a miniature version of Charles, his face lined with worry. "You certainly have a penchant for surprises, Arthur." He said, showing no fear whatsoever despite the fact that Arthur was at least ten times as large as him. "You okay?" 

Arthur scrubbed his fingers through his stubble, leaning forward to look down at Charles. "I'm fine. Don't ask me how the weather is up here though."

Charles let out a short laugh and hopped up onto the toe of Arthur's boot, beckoning him. "Give me a boost, will you?" 

"O-Oh, yeah, sure." Arthur was a little nervous to pick him up, not wanting to hurt him, but as he extended his fingers, Charles didn't flinch, and that reassured him. He picked him up like he would a small animal, scooping him toward his face. "You don't seem to be as scared as you should be."

Charles shrugged as he began to climb up Arthur's arm, settling himself on his shoulder like he'd been doing it all his life. "You're my friend, Arthur. You've only ever been good to me. A growth spurt doesn't change that."

A little flutter in his chest made him smile, and he looked sideways at him. "Alright then. What's the plan?" 

"Get back to camp." Charles said, holding onto his neckerchief. "Try not to be seen, hard as that may be. Don't want anyone following us."

Arthur nodded, being very careful as he stood. "Torches and pitchforks and all that." He smirked as he raised his bandana, just in case someone identified him from the wanted posters. He could see for miles, the steep hills around him seeming like the slopes on the sides of cart tracks. In the distance, he could see Valentine, and he hoped that didn't mean they could see him. 

His footsteps shook the earth as he walked, each stride taking him 50 feet closer to camp. Charles seemed to enjoy the wind in his hair, the feeling of rushing across the plains faster than any horse could take him. 

It was only a few moments before Arthur heard something. A voice. He paused, and Charles hissed into his ear. "We can't risk anyone seeing you like this. Whatever it is, just leave it."

Arthur shook his head. "Someone's in trouble though." He said, straining his ears. He heard the cries for help to his right, and stepped closer to the source. There, waist deep in mud from the riverbed, was a young man. Surrounding him, five ravenous looking coyotes.  
"Hey, get outta here, scram." Arthur said, the coyotes taking one look at him and immediately bolting. 

The man in the mud wailed when he saw Arthur, beginning to struggle even more as he watched the gigantic cowboy kneel. "Oh my Lord, please don't hurt me! Oh shit!" 

Rolling his eyes, he dug his fingers into the mud, easily lifting the young man out. "I gotcha, don't worry." He muttered, setting him down on the grass. "You okay? Quite a mess you got yourself in." 

The man, quivering, nodded. "Th…Thank you, sir!" 

"Don't mention it." Arthur grumbled as he stood up, casting him in shadow. "I mean it, really. Don't." With that, he strode away, feeling good about himself. 

Charles huffed. "You're too damn nice, Morgan."

"Heh. If anything, I'm too nasty."

As they approached Horseshoe Overlook, Charles gave his cheek a pat. "Let me down here, you sit down here and wait until I've told the gang."

"What, you think they just gonna believe you?" Arthur whispered, kneeling in the wilderness, not too close to Valentine. He put Charles down, watching him stride up the hill. 

"Better this than you getting shot." He smirked, disappearing into the trees. 

Arthur took the moment by himself to think. So, he was enormous. How, he didn't know. Not much point to speculation. But the thing that really made him wonder was about Dutch. He would probably find a way to make Arthur into a one-man-army. 

Speaking of, he heard the cracked tones of his mentor in the trees. "Charles, how much have you had? There is no way you are going to get me to believe that Arthur Morgan is some kind of…" He paused when he spotted Arthur, eyes wide. "...behemoth." He whispered. 

"Dutch." Arthur tipped his hat. "I won't get up, I'll probably knock you on your ass."

Dutch tore his eyes away from Arthur long enough to light a cigar, casting the match aside. "How in the hell…did you get like this?" He asked, trying to keep level, despite the obvious panic in his voice. "Jesus, Arthur, you could crush us all."

Arthur rubbed his chin. "That's a point. Don't let me near Micah, I'll probably end up stomping on him."

"Noted." Dutch cleared his throat, his eyebrows furrowing in the way he did when he was hatching a plan. "Y'know, Arthur, I got a tip about some stage coaches…"

"Dutch." Arthur warned 

"Might be a good score…"

"Dutch!" He was louder than he intended, and both Dutch and Charles started, looking at him with alarm, a few flocks of birds taking flight as though hearing a gun shot. "Sorry. But really, if someone sees me, then sees me in camp, they'll find out where you all are."

Dutch blew a smoke ring as he leant against a tree. "If they do, you can just squash them. I mean, no Pinkerton will be able to stop you grinding them into the earth like a bug."

Another figure suddenly intruded, clearing having heard Arthur's outcry. Sean blinked, mouth agape, hands shaking a little as he reached for his revolver. "Holy shit!" He cried, about to take aim when two treetrunk sized fingers lifted him by the legs, whisking him upside down. He yelled and struggled, his gun clattering to the ground. 

"Don't be so goddamn rude." Arthur growled at him. "You don't point guns at friends." He growled, and Sean nodded, still quivering. 

"I-I'm sorry, English! Just didn't expect to see your ugly mug in that much detail." Sean muttered, trying to pull his shirt back over his exposed stomach. "Let me down, all the blood is rushing to my head!"

"Makes a change." Arthur smirked as he unceremoniously dropped him in a heap, watching him scramble to his feet. "Give me the details of this thing then…” He sighed. He didn’t see the point in trying to fight Dutch on this.

As the job was explained to him, he felt more and more that it was a bad idea. However, Dutch seemed adamant about it, and far be it from him to contradict Dutch. “Okay, fine.” He sighed. “Who’s coming with me?”

Sean stepped forward. “I will! Even though you’re fuckin’ scary as all hell, I wanna witness this.” He smirked. “Ooh, shall I fetch John?”

Dutch nodded sagely. “That’ll give Charles and I a chance to tell the rest of the camp what’s happened to you. That is if they actually believe us.”

“Pretty fuckin’ hard to argue with this evidence!” Sean cried, gesturing to Arthur. “What, that awful savaging I got from the big ugly cunt just a trick of the light?!”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’ll give you a savaging, Sean. You wanna see how ugly I am on the inside?” He asked, giving an exaggerated snap of his teeth that made the Irishman go a pasty grey colour.

Chuckling, Charles shook his head. “I’ll go fetch John. Look after yourself, Arthur.” He said, before he and Dutch walked back to camp.

“H-Hey! Don’t leave me alone with him!” Sean whined as they disappeared, turning his eyes back to Arthur, who looked rather pleased with himself. “You...You aren’t really gonna hurt me, are you, Arthur? I mean, we’re brothers after all!”

Arthur scoffed. “If you were my brother, I’d punch both our parents and the doctor.” He looked out at the Dakota river, rubbing his chin. Though their band of misfits was strange and deranged, he couldn’t lie that most of them held a prominent place in his heart. Though maybe one or two could benefit from a bullet between the eyes.

“Well, I’ll be.” John whistled as he rode closer on Old Boy, leading Ennis behind him. The horse nickered when it saw Sean, clearly very anxious around Arthur, and tried to pull the rope to be closer to him. “I’ll admit, I thought Dutch had eaten some plant or another. But here you are…” He pat Old Boy’s neck to settle him as Arthur shifted.

“Here I am.” He smirked. “The new big threat to saloons.”

Sean laughed at that, mounting Ennis. “Jesus, it’d take a whole lake of whiskey to get you tipsy I bet.”

“You been shot yet?” John asked. “Bet it’d bounce right off.”

Arthur sighed and moved to stand, the two horses neighing and panicking a little as he towered high above them. “Don’t particularly want to test that out, if you don’t mind.” He said as he stretched. “Right, lead the way.” He gestured, raising his bandana.

As John and Sean took point, Arthur walked behind them, their horses needing quite a bit of strong-arming to not throw off their occupants. John tried to shout up to Arthur, not quite knowing if he could hear him. “Do you think this is a good idea? I mean, we’ll be the only camp around with an actual giant, it’ll be pretty easy to track us down.”

Arthur shrugged, holding his belt buckle as he mosied along. “Dutch seems to think I’ll be able to handle anyone who comes through. Though I don’t know, what if they bring a cannon or something? Won’t be much use with a shattered kneecap.”

“You could always ward them away with your stink.” Sean laughed.

“I could also always just step on you right here, boy.” Arthur replied. “I guess I could always sleep in the valley, a way aways. Then I’ll be in earshot but far enough that camp isn’t found.” 

John nodded. “I think I’d actually love to see you smush some O’Driscolls. God, you must feel like the biggest bison on the prairie.”

Arthur rolled his shoulders a little. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Though I do keep thinking of more and more creative ways to be rid of some of the more annoying members of the group. Not naming any names… Sean.”

“Oh, leave it out!” Sean called back over his shoulder. “We could be doing all sorts, Arthur Morgan, anything in the world. And here you are, wounding me with words.”

“Probably the least of the wounds I could give you.” He replied gruffly. “Oop, there’s the stage. Just over the hill.” As he began to walk faster, he outpaced the horses, striding toward the stagecoach. It had clearly seen him and the draft horses were at full pace, shrieking shrilly. Arthur, not wanting the poor horses to be hurt in their panic, drew his knife. One more stride and he blocked the road with the toe of his boot, the horses skidding to a halt.  
Before the horses could do themselves any mischief, Arthur cut their harnesses and let them free, the pair galloping away. He then turned his attention to the coach, picking it up between his fingers, it being the size of a can of peaches to him.

Inside, three rich looking men sat with screams in their throats, trying to open the doors. Arthur snickered, watching the driver, who had leapt off, running into the distance.  
“Barely any need for us.” John smiled as he came to a stop beside Arthur’s boot, holstering his pistol. 

“Yeah, I got this covered.” Arthur said. “Now then, gentlemen.” He peered through the window, his blue eye all they could see. “You got three options. One, I crush this wagon beneath my boot. Two, you give me all the cash and jewels you have on you. Three, I crush the wagon in my fingers. Now that might seem the same as option one, but it means I’ll have to wash my hands, get your innards off.”

The men inside whimpered as they reached for their pockets with shaky hands, fetching everything they had and thrusting the items out of the window. John and Sean caught them all, pocketing them. Arthur grabbed the lockbox from the back of the coach and used a fingernail to pry the lid off. He passed it to John, then smiled at his victims. They were crying. Cute.  
“Smart fellas.” He said as he put the coach down. “Valentine is that way, just up the hill. And if you tell a single person about this, I’ll track you down and put you in a stew.” He said as he stood, watching them scatter like roaches. “It’s not only Englishman’s blood that giants can smell!” He added with a laugh, looking down at his feet. 

John closed the box and put it in his bag. “Looks about $850. Not a bad take.”

“Yeah, could’a gone worse.” Arthur was still smiling as they went back toward camp. 

“You enjoyed that.” Sean said. 

“‘Course I did. You know how much I love seeing rich bastards squirm.”

John chuckled. “At this rate, you could probably go on a rampage in Saint Denis, put a bank in your pocket.”

“You could always just threaten to take off your boots though.” Sean added. “That’ll get em beggin’.”

“One more, Sean. One more and you’ll be smart-mouthin’ in my belly.” He growled with a pointed finger.

John laughed at the expression on Sean’s face as they galloped toward camp.


	2. In Camp

"Holy shit!" 

"Oh man, that is crazy."

"Don't let him get closer to camp, I worked really hard on making everything neat."

"As if we didn't have enough food problems!" 

Arthur sat and leant on the cliff beside Horseshoe Overlook, hidden behind the treeline from prying eyes. He listened to everyone's reactions with a slight frown, waiting to not be a spectacle anymore so he could have a bit of quiet. However, fucking Bill Williamson just had to start shit. 

"Here we are, trying to lay low, and you come here like some sort of beacon!" He hissed up at Arthur. "You shouldn't be let near camp!" 

A hand on Bill's shoulder silenced him before Arthur could, and Hosea stepped forward. "Everyone, get back to work. So Arthur eats his vegetables, big deal. He's still Arthur, and we're gonna be just fine."

Grumbling, Bill strode away, Javier in tow. The girls seemed to want to stay close, hanging around a tent, out of sight of Hosea and Ms Grimshaw as they chattered amongst themselves, giggling.  
"Are you alright?" Hosea asked quietly as he moved closer to Arthur. He craned his neck upward to see his face, feeling it crick unpleasantly. 

Arthur shrugged. "Can't say I ain't worried. What if this is permanent? Probably end up hiding in a cave somewhere."

"Now, now." Hosea stepped closer and placed a hand on Arthur's finger, patting it reassuringly. "Don't worry about that. Just focus on yourself now, okay?" 

It felt strange, his father figure being so small beside him, and he turned his hand over, hating how Hosea flinched. However, he held his hand in between his thumb and forefinger, careful to put no pressure at all on it, lest he hurt him. Hosea smiled kindly up at Arthur. "Always knew you'd be taller than me when you were a boy, but this is ridiculous." He laughed to himself. 

Another voice piped up, and Arthur was about to bristle when he noticed who it was. "Hey, Mr Morgan?" Abigail smiled up at him nervously. "I don't suppose you'd talk to Jack?" She asked, gesturing to the boy behind her, clinging to her skirt. "Give him a little…assurance? If you catch my meanin'."

Arthur's face softened and he slowly moved to a slouch, trying not to be as scary as he was, resting his chin on the back of his hand. "Well, that would imply that Jack is afraid of me. And that can't be true, because Jack is the bravest boy I've ever met." He looked at him with kind, sparkling eyes. "C'mon out here. It's just me. You know Uncle Arthur won't hurt ya."

Jack, looking at Abigail for reassurance, very cautiously moved forward, staring at the rugged cowboy with fearful eyes. "Y-You look like a monster…" Jack muttered, wanting to go hide behind Abigail. 

Arthur shook his head. "I ain't, Jack. You know that, doncha?" He put his hand down on the ground, palm up. "You wanna come sit in my hand? I won't lift it up, I promise."

Jack stepped back with a frown, but Abigail gripped his shoulder and pushed him forward. "Go on! It's just Arthur."

"You don't have to, Jackie. I know I'm scary. But I haven't changed, it's still me. Just in a bigger package." He chuckled, mindful of his volume. "You ever read Jack and The Beanstalk?" 

"Y-Yeah, Pa read it with me." Jack muttered as he stepped closer. "You're not gonna grind people's bones, are you?" 

"Not if you don't want me to." Arthur smiled with a little wink. "But that book could be about you. Brave giant slayer, making sure his momma has enough gold for her to live comfortably."

Jack, still seeming nervous, used Arthur's thumb webbing to kneel on so he could climb up into his palm. Arthur could see he was shaking a little, so he tried to keep as still as he could as the boy sat down.  
"There we are." He whispered. "Not so scary, am I? Though I bet Mr Pearson is worried about how much stew I'll eat."

That made Jack laugh, and he nodded. "But you could go get a moose for the stew. Or a bear!" 

"Well, I might just have to. I'd eat a bear in two bites." Arthur raised his other hand, being as slow as he physically could as he brought his fingers behind Jack, pausing when he tensed, but eventually petting his hair affectionately. "There. You're okay, ain't ya? Not gonna have nightmares about me?" 

Jack shook his head with a grin. "No, Uncle Arthur." He wrung his hands a little. "Could we go up? I wanna see if I can see forever!" 

Abigail looked worried, but Arthur gave her a reassuring smile as he stood up. He held his hand to his chest, chuckling as Jack whooped, and lifted it slightly above his head. He could feel Jack digging his fingers into his palm as the cool breeze rushed past him. "Oh, I can see the town! I can see the next one too! Oh, and a farm! Can you see the farm?!" 

"Sure can, Jackie." Arthur smiled. Not wanting to push his luck with the risk of holding a small child two hundred feet in the air, he soon returned to his sitting position, tipping his hand and letting Jack slide down into his mother's arms. 

"You say thank you to Uncle Arthur now." Abigail said, and Jack thanked him with the widest smile he'd seen on him in months. "Thanks from me too." Abigail muttered, and Arthur tipped his hat as the pair went back to their tent.

Arthur wished Jack hadn't mentioned food. He knew the stew was off limits to him, as it would be less than a shot for him. But the gripes in his belly still made him grumble. He was about to rifle through his bag when he heard a little ruckus. 

"I told you, I ain't an O'Driscoll! Why is that so hard for you fellers to understa--" 

Arthur craned his neck just in time to see Bill headbutt Kieran, sending him sprawling to the ground. "Yeah, well, O'Driscoll or not, you ain't one of us, boy!" Bill laughed. He looked over to Arthur, making eye contact, before a grin showed he had an idea. "In fact, let's make some use of you, eh?" He grabbed Kieran's ankle and began to drag him, ignoring the pathetic squeaks coming from him. "You remember when I said Pearson wanted your balls for his stew? Well, the whole lot of you, barbecued, would make a perfect snack for our new huge friend."

Kieran looked at Arthur with horror-stricken eyes, trying to claw the dirt to get away from him. "N-No! Let me go!" 

Those that Bill passed watched with an amusement that Arthur didn't much like. Sure, Kieran used to be one of Colm's boys. But he had done everything he could to prove himself. And as Bill threw him at Arthur's mercy, whimpering like a child, the gargantuan outlaw rolled his eyes. "You kiddin' me, Williamson?" He growled, pinching the trembling little man between two fingers, trying not to enjoy how he squirmed in his grip. "More meat on a gnawed chicken bone than on this kid." He glanced at Bill. "More on you. You're three times the size of him, I'd be better off throwing you on the grill."

"Like to see you try." Bill growled, clearly not too happy that his joke had been cut short. 

Arthur watched him leave, not realising that he was rolling Kieran between his thumb and forefinger until he began to all but plead. "P-Please, Mr Morgan, j-just put me down! I am one of you now, I promise, just…" He could barely get his words out for shaking and Arthur's focus snapped back to him. Lord, he was crying. It made Arthur feel both sorry for him, and slightly irked that he didn’t face him with more dignity.

"Easy there, you’re okay." Arthur set him down on the rock, his hand behind him so he couldn't up and run.

Still shaking like a leaf, Kieran scrambled backward slightly, his back touching Arthur’s wrist, making him jump with fright and stop, looking around with wide eyes. He fumbled with his holster and pulled out his revolver, pointing it at Arthur, the metal rattling with his shakes.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Really?” He shook his head. “That might as well be a pea shooter.” He didn’t know that, but since a revolver wasn’t powerful enough for a bear, and he was at least ten times as large as a grizzly, he doubted it would do that much damage.

Kieran looked from Arthur to his gun, and whimpered softly, holstering it. 

"There you go.” Arthur whispered. “Quite the nosebleed you got there."

He shivered and touched his nose, sniffling a little. "Goddamn lunatics…" He looked up at Arthur, pale and nervy, his voice cracking as he spoke. "You-you ain't really gonna do anything to me, are you? You won’t eat me like Bill said?" 

Arthur reached into his bag and pulled out a chunk of jerky the length of a train car. "Nah, I've got this. But I'll keep you on standby, just in case." He bit a piece off then offered a sliver to Kieran, who flinched and took it with shaking hands. "Don't pay 'em any mind. Sure, we're all pretty convinced you're gonna ditch us and tell Colm where we are--" 

"Colom." Sean shouted from his tent, still adamant about pronunciation. 

Arthur ignored him. "But you keep trying and soon I'm sure you'll be part of the family." 

Kieran took a bite of the jerky as he pressed his hanky to his nose. "I-I am tryin'. I really am." He mumbled. "Seems impossible."

"Heh. Think I'm a testament to testing the limits of impossibility." He gestured down to himself. "Anyway, get back to the horses. And keep your wits about you, boy. So easy for me to get you if I decide you're not fit for this gang."

Kieran tried not to look afraid, but his face was the colour of oatmeal as he stood, hurrying over to the hitching post. 

Arthur turned to look at the orange glow of the sunset, leaning against the cliff. He chewed his jerky, wondering about what he'd do if he really couldn't get back to normal.  
The sound of Javier tuning up brought a smile to his face, and he listened to him playing with a tired appreciation. Hopefully they'd be okay. He just had to be optimistic.

Arthur didn’t know when he drifted off, but a noise by his ear made his head snap up. He put a hand on the grip of his pistol, but he remembered he didn’t need it. He could tackle anything. He turned to see Hosea seating himself on the cliff beside him, and his eyes crinkled. “What time is it?” He breathed softly.

“About four.” Hosea took a swig of whiskey, then offered the bottle to Arthur. “You’ll probably get an earful in the morning, you were snoring until one.”

Snickering, Arthur reached out and took the whiskey bottle between two fingers. It was about the size of a pencil lead, but he poured the contents of it on his tongue, the tiny drop giving him just a small taste. “Bit pointless, that.” He flicked the bottle down the hill, sending it across the river and into the cliff on the other side of the valley. “Couldn’t you sleep?”

Hosea shook his head. “Nah, been trying to weigh the pros and cons of us using your new size to net a big score.” He rubbed the back of his neck as the pair watched some owls lazily soaring overhead. “It would be pretty easy for you to just...rip off the roof of a bank. But I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

Arthur shrugged. “I trust your judgement. I’ll go along with whatever you say.”

Face softening, Hosea got to his feet and stepped over the gap between the cliff edge and Arthur’s shoulder, prompting the giant man to look across at him. He seated himself down, seemingly a lot happier to be closer to his adoptive son. “You’re one of the only people here who actually has all of his marbles. I know you’ve got my back…” He placed a hand on Arthur’s neck, surprised at his searing body heat. “We’ve got to find out how sturdy you are before anything. We’ll get someone to take some potshots at you, somewhere not too vital.”

Corner of his mouth lifting, Arthur took off his hat and used a hand to shake out his hair. “An example of somewhere not too vital, please?”

“Your ass?” Hosea shrugged with a coy smirk. 

Arthur scoffed. “I’ll try not to take offence at that.” He hummed and replaced his hat. A sudden coughing fit by his ear made him frown and he glanced sideways. “You okay?”

Still wheezing, he nodded, waving a dismissive hand. “Just th--” Another cough. “Just the usual.” He hacked up something gross and spat it over the side of Arthur’s shoulder, making sure it hit the ground and not his clothes. He rubbed his chest with a wince, and Arthur reached for him, ignoring the jolt of surprise as he wrapped his fingers around him.  
The warmth of Arthur’s hands radiated through Hosea’s body, making the sting of cold air in his aching lungs subside, like a warm compress. Without much thought, Hosea grabbed Arthur’s thumb with both hands, pulling it to press against the middle of his chest, feeling no small amount of relief.

“Don’t you go anywhere, old man.” Arthur tried to be comedic despite his concern. “Not yet.”

Hosea smiled, giving another cough, it hurting a lot less. “We all gotta go some time, my dear boy.” He gave his palm a pat, eyes turning toward the pink of the rising sun. “But I’ll try not to leave you by yourself.”


	3. Robbery

It wasn't the stark light of the day that awoke Arthur, as it might usually have done. No, it was feeling something tickle his face. He made a point to stay still, listening to what it was. He heard hushed voices, ones he recognised. 

"Okay, just step back a bit."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" 

"Well it'll be fuckin' funny, Lenny."

"He might wake up."

"He won't wake up. Just take the photograph."

Arthur fought not to smile as he felt a boot on his cheek. So Sean thought to pose with him like he was a hunting trophy? Very on-brand. He was determined to ruin his fun, however. 

"Alright, say whiskey."

Turning his head at the last second, Arthur stuck out his tongue, giving Sean a lick like a colossal dog. Sean yelped as he tumbled down his chest, coming to rest on his belly, his clothes drenched. Arthur began to laugh, the pair on his torso having to fight not to be thrown to the ground. Lenny began to laugh too, clapping his hands as Sean tried to squeegee slime from his face.  
"Real fuckin' funny! Oh, Lordy me, that's disgusting!" 

Lenny wiped the tears from his eyes, grinning at Arthur. "Oh, you can have that photograph. His face!" 

"Serves him right. Could'a just swatted you like a mosquito, so you got lucky there." Arthur pointed out as he lifted the pair back onto the cliff. 

The buzz of the morning was lively, as cheerful as it ever was. Arthur had only lightly snoozed since Hosea had woken him, and his lingering grogginess was washed away with the cold water of the stream, tens of gallons splashed on his face at a time. Unfortunately, he had managed to tangle a fish in his facial hair, but Pearson had eagerly removed it to put in his stew, not without some laughter. 

The map was rolled out on the cliff edge, Hosea, Dutch and Charles gathered around it with Arthur overshadowing them with unbreaking concentration. 

"Rhodes would be our best bet." Hosea touched the map with a single finger. "Far enough away that the camp would be safe. Arthur will be the distraction."

Dutch raised an eyebrow. "You don't think he'd be better doing the actual robbing?" He asked, a little puzzled. 

"No. You see, if he's taking the money, they'll cotton on to what's going on." He gave Dutch a smirk. "But if Arthur draws their fire, provided we find out the damage guns will do to him, you'll be able to get in and out without anyone noticing. Arthur does a monster rampage, purely theatrical, we don't want to level the town." He made that point to Arthur with a gesture to emphasise. "You slip in once everyone runs, or use crowd control if people are still in there. You meet up at Dewberry Creek. Arthur, once we're away, you head West toward Flat Iron Lake." He moved his fingertip along the paper as he spoke. "Pack your swimwear, you wade out as far as you can, try and get them to lose you in the water. This will be close to sunset, so you can use the dark of the night to avoid being seen. Leave your waistcoat here so you've just got your black shirt on. Then you meet us back here."

Dutch smiled and put a hand on Hosea's shoulder. "That is a sterling plan. I told you that you wouldn't lose your touch."

"That is a damn fine plan." Arthur nodded. "Provided we pull it off okay."

Dutch pulled out his revolver, spinning the barrel expertly. "We'll need to work out the best 'rampage' strategy. Whether or not to crush buildings and so-on. I think making a surreptitious hole in the bank in the right wall will be a good idea. But I shall see to testing the durability of our friend here." He looked up at Arthur. "Any preferences?" 

Not liking the idea of being shot, but supposing it was necessary, he sighed and stood up. Turning around, he presented his thigh to Dutch. "Have at it." He said, closing his eyes and waiting for the pain. 

The gunshot came with a sting like that of a bee, without the throb of venom. Like a bad splinter. Arthur looked down with a raised eyebrow, seeing that all the camp had paused to watch. "Well, are you gonna do it or what?" He asked with a cocky twang. 

Dutch began to laugh, throwing up his hands. "Gentleman, we have here an invincible tank! Mr Morgan shall give us the edge we need!" 

"You just need to make sure they don't get his eyes." Hosea pointed out. 

Charles spoke for the first time in a good few minutes, face lined with concentration. "You said 'you', like you're not coming with us?" 

Hosea gave Charles a wiley grin. "Oh, I'm part of the distraction, I'm too old for the action." His point was punctuated with a terrible cough, and he spat something over his shoulder. "While you away with the money, I'll be in the grips of this… _savage beast."_

Arthur scoffed. "I knew it. I knew you'd have me playing pretend." He grumbled, folding his arms. "What was it last time, knife thrower's assistant? You know I hate it."

Dutch laughed, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. "This sounds perfect. Kieran, saddle the horses!" He shouted, his voice breaking. "We got us a bank to rob."

oOo

The state of Lemoyne wasn't short of wilderness by any stretch. With its deep swamps, dusty plains, and golden meadows, Arthur found it quite easy to use vegetation and rock formations to conceal himself from view. Hosea had said six o'clock. His pocket watch marked ten to the hour, and he sat behind a lush, foliage clad cliff, simply waiting. He'd been told to destroy only what seemed necessary for effect, nothing too essential. A few wagons, the statue, the bell, maybe a house. The main thing was the act. Keep everyone focused on him while Dutch and Charles handled the money. 

"M…Mr Morgan?!" 

Arthur started and looked around, spotting none other than Albert Mason, trembling hands holding his tripod. He seemed even more frightened than when he was about to be devoured by wolves. "Mr Mason." Arthur greeted, tipping his hat. 

The wildlife photographer was slack-jawed, eyes bulging, all manner of ineloquent noises coming from him. "How d… why are… oh my WORD!" 

Another glance at his pocket watch. Eight minutes. "I don't know how I got like this, Mr Mason. Frankly, I don't care. But I've got a meeting in a few minutes so I can't chat for long."

Albert seemed at a loss for words for a moment, before he cleared his throat and straightened his vest. "I suppose like that, it'll be easier for you next time I decide to photograph something that would like to eat me." He blushed as he met eyes with Arthur, those huge blue pools fixed on him almost... Almost something. He connected the dots and swallowed hard. "M-May I take your photo, Mr Morgan?" He asked hurriedly. 

Arthur seemed to have put the statements together too and laughed quietly. "Ah, I don't know, Mr Mason…"

"I promise you, I won't show a soul, at least not until you're back to your old self." His voice was higher than usual, making Arthur smirk. "Oh, please, this may be a very exciting opportunity."

"Not to be nitpicky, but might'n't it be hard to get me all in frame?" Arthur asked. 

That point made Albert stroke his beard, before he smiled and set up the camera for a self portrait. "I'm not in the habit of photographing myself, but if you would rest your hand beside me? In some sort of pose, sure to grasp the attention of any and all who see?" 

"Grasp their attention, huh?" Arthur smirked. He checked his watch. Five minutes. Eh, he had time. His fingers, thicker than Albert's whole body, wrapped around him like pythons, making him yelp. Arthur made sure not to squeeze, holding him lightly as the flashbulb went off. Albert wriggled in his grasp, shouting to be put down. Arthur snickered and lifted the fearful photographer, turning his hand so Albert rolled to sit in his palm. "I ain't gonna drop you."

Albert was shaking even more than he had been after the alligator incident, trying not to look down. "See that you don't!" He squeaked, his hands rubbing nervously on the calloused skin beneath him, his face burning with a blush.

"If I'm still like this, and you're still in town, I think later I'll find you again. If only to give you some good views of the wildlife." Arthur grinned. 

Albert nodded, heart jumping as he looked at the ground far below. "Please put me down, Mr Morgan, this is intolerable."

When Arthur obliged, he stumbled toward his camera, his hands jittery on the frame as he packed it away.  
"W-Well, thank you, Mr Morgan! I'm sure that photograph will come out fine!" He said, still shaken. 

Six o'clock. Arthur raised his bandana and tipped his hat to Albert. "Take care now, Mr Mason." He said, before getting to his feet, ignoring the gasp of astonishment as he strode toward Rhodes. 

Hosea stood by the general store, taking in the day. It was hot, but waning into an evening cool, pleasant and sweet smelling. The church bell rang six. He took in a little 'before' picture, people going about their business as usual. However, he knew that was soon to change. He felt the first tremor beneath his feet, and tried to hide the smile on his face. His son, his impossibly huge son, joining him in theatrical distraction work, rather than being the muscle or the gun. He'd always loved the stage, the fixated attention, the way he could weasel his way into or out of any situation. As a dark shadow was cast over Rhodes, punctuated with booming footfalls, Hosea's look of fear wasn't wholly forged. In truth, the Arthur who had held him gently only the day before seemed not to be in there anymore. No, now he was turned monster, and it scared the living daylights out of him. 

Face dark, obscured behind mask and hat, the giant growled in a way that vibrated the air, infrasound sending the townsfolk running. Never in their lives had they ever seen anything quite so ghastly, so terror-striking. The giant stepped forward, and Hosea watched the fake trip and stumble over the bank, the wall that his boot toe caught crumbling like ash on contact. Arthur gave another guttural growl as he stepped forward, a wooden cart becoming naught but splinters beneath his titanic weight. The crunch was satisfying, like stepping on a perfect autumn leaf, but Arthur didn't tarry. He snatched up the statue in the square and threw it with all his might, the hunk of metal and stone crashing into a building, the wall splintering and falling, the roof sloping to the ground. 

Hosea stepped back a few paces when Arthur turned his eyes to him, deciding to heed the survival instincts coursing through him. It made for a better show, after all. He turned tail and began to flee from the destruction raining upon the small town, feeling a footfall behind him that sent him sprawling into the red dirt, scuffing his hands. He felt firm fingertips pinch around his hips, and the ground began to retreat as he was whisked skywards. As Hosea began to yell, swearing every variation of 'unhand me you monster', the deserted bank was being emptied. 

It seemed that when Arthur had kicked a hole in the wall, those within had fled as fast as they could, leaving a nest of unguarded safes for any passing outlaw to take advantage of. As Dutch and Charles stuffed their bags full of paper and metal, they listened to - and felt - Arthur's performance. Dutch chuckled behind his mask as he cleared out the last safe. “Wish I could see what’s going on. I bet those boys are enjoying themselves.”

Charles hummed gruffly. “I hope we’ll be able to find a way to get Arthur back to normal after this.”

Dutch shrugged. “All in good time. He’s the ace up my sleeve.” Charles made sure his expression of disapproval was hidden as he ducked outside into the setting sun. 

Arthur had kicked the town bell into the roof of the general store, the pretty picket fences being just splinters in wide footprints. He spotted Dutch and Charles in his periphery, and he took a moment to make sure they were okay. However, there seemed to be an issue. Dutch was raising his hands in surrender, as was Charles. From behind a wall, Arthur saw the flash of a pistol and the sparkle of a badge. Shit.

As he walked toward the lawman, he drew his attention, a giant seeming a lot more pressing than a bank robbery. Arthur felt the sting of bullets as he moved closer, and he jerked his chin surreptitiously, telling Dutch and Charles to get lost. They took the hint, both ducking into a copse of trees and whistling for their mounts. As he felt a bullet skim his finger, he pulled Hosea closer to his chest, frowning as he raised his foot.  
Arthur used the outside edge of his boot to knock the man sprawling sideways, and pivoted it on his heel. The sole of his boot hovered above the lawman like a ceiling, dusted with remnants of rubble from his rampage. The space between the leather and the street closed quickly and Arthur felt the resistance of the man’s body as it made contact with him. The lawman panicked, howling as he clawed at the sole of his shoe, until his arms were pinned to his body. Looking down at his boot, obscuring the man, Arthur paused with uncertainty and looked at Hosea with a questioning quirk of his eyebrow. Hose nodded, then resumed his damsel in distress act. He'd seen Dutch and Charles. No witnesses. 

It felt strange, snuffing someone out beneath his shoe like a beetle, but it was all too easy to crunch the man into nothing but meat, and the rush of power almost sickened Arthur. He scraped his sole in the dirt to rid himself of the bloody footprints, then growled, looking down at Hosea, and his overacting reaction to his murder. Well, in for a penny…

Arthur lifted Hosea to his face and made a show of slipping him under his mask. Those watching screamed as they heard the giant gulp thickly, rubbing his belly with a hum. Hosea snickered as he clung onto Arthur’s mask, perched on his bottom lip. He gave the tip of his nose a pat as he began to walk toward Flat Iron Lake, just like the plan.

As soon as he was out of sight, speedwalking to outpace the horses, Arthur pulled down his mask, making sure to catch Hosea in his palm.  
“Oh, you were splendid, my boy! Splendid!” Hosea laughed. “Pretending to eat me, that was one hell of a flourish.”

Arthur smiled. “Can’t take all the credit. One of my friends got me thinking about it, since he seems to nearly get eaten at least once a week.” 

“You’re top of the food chain now, Mr Morgan.” Hosea smirked. “But really, I’m very proud of you.”

The pink tinging Arthur's ears didn't go unnoticed and Hosea patted his thumb as Arthur began to wade into the lake. It didn't feel as cold as usual, which he was glad for, and it only came up to his waist. He kept walking, into the setting sun, his dark clothes making him blend in with the blanketing gloom.


	4. Mr Mason

Hosea swung his legs as he sat on the brim of Arthur's hat, watching him wring out his socks. Arthur could see his boots, kicking back and forth, and smiled a little. "All good then?" He asked, putting his damp socks back on. Damp was better than sodden.

"I think so. I'm sure Dutch will be happy." Hosea grunted as he rolled to peer over the edge at Arthur, his own hat falling off and tumbling into the giant man's hand. "What about you? Any side effects from your new stature?"

Arthur shrugged. "Nothing that springs to mind." He mumbled, passing Hosea his hat back. "I bet you can't wait for me to get back to normal so you can go back to being the centre of attention."

"Oh, even when you're like this, I'm still more dazzling than you." He turned his smirk down to the ground and thinned his lips to a line with concern. "Have you eaten anything out of the ordinary? Any herbs or tonics?"

Arthur ran his nails over his stubble as he thought. "I did...try this one plant I found. Didn't know what it was." The look Hosea gave him made him feel a little sheepish. "Well, you're always at it with your mortar and pestle, I guess I got inspired."

Hosea laughed quietly. "Mental acuity isn't your strongest characteristic, so I understand." Arthur held out his finger to Hosea, who placed a tiny hand on his fingertip. "We'll find a way to get you back. Plus, if it's from plant life, I can only assume the effects will just wear off."

Arthur picked Hosea up, pulling him close as he stood up. "Hope so. I'm down to the last bit of food in my satchel."

"Ah, you'll be able to catch something, I'm sure." Hosea held Arthur's index finger as he narrowed his eyes against the rushing wind.

After a moment of silence, Arthur spoke. "Am I confined to camp now?" He asked.

Hosea looked over his shoulder at him. "Why? Where were you planning to go?"

Arthur scratched the back of his neck. "My friend, Albert Mason… He's quite the avid photographer."

Hosea gave Arthur a sideways glance. "Friend?"

"Oh, don't start." Arthur rolled his eyes. "I thought I could help him get some shots of the more dangerous creatures around here."

"Like bears? I'm sure you'll be great at fending off those big bastards." He nodded. "As long as you make sure you're not seen by too many people, it should be okay."

Arthur smiled as they neared camp, hearing the sounds of celebration over the score they'd gained. A night of song and drink with his family was just what he needed.

**oOo**

"That's it, a bit closer…" Albert muttered as he watched the elk slowly approaching the bait he'd laid. He'd made sure he was downwind, snapping a photo just as the elk looked at him. "Oh, perfect…"  
Albert frowned as the massive bull lowered his head, shaking out his antlers as he pawed the ground. "Uh oh…" Yet again, he'd found himself in a dangerous situation involving local wildlife. However, just before the elk charged to give him a fatal goring, it looked up with wide eyes, and immediately turned tail, running away.

"Ah! I must be getting an intimidating aire about me." Albert grinned to himself.

"Hardly think so."

Albert screamed at the booming voice, jumping so hard he fell onto his back, looking up from his laid down position. The view he had of Arthur was enough to make his heart leap into his throat, fluttering with frenzied beats. He was crouched, towering above him, every movement making the air quiver as though it too was afraid of him. Although he’d seen him before, only 15 hours prior, he still made his entire body tremble as he sat up hurriedly. Somehow, amongst the trees, he looked larger, awe inspiring, his gorgeous eyes and cocky smile bringing heat to Albert’s cheeks. “M-M-Mr Morgan!”

Arthur tipped his hat in his usual fashion and lowered himself to sit. “Sorry about scaring off your subject. Though I think he was a little too eager to kill you.” He chuckled, not seeing the wobble of the tripod at the deep, thrumming sound.

“Y-Yes, well, as are most things, it seems.” Albert grumbled as he stood up, his neck giving a sharp complaint as he stared skyward. "I, ah… I saw some of your handiwork in Rhodes."

Arthur flushed slightly, his stomach feeling cold. "Oh, uh, yeah…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't kill anyone. Well, one lawman, but he was going to hurt my friends."

Albert frowned slightly. "What about that man you ate? That seemed rather murderous, Mr Morgan."

"Huh? Oh! No, no, that was Hosea, he was in on it. It was all an act." He gave a little explanation, mostly skirting over the fact that he'd killed more people than he could count, focusing on the angle of his family needing money to be safe. "You… You do still want to be my friend, don't you?"

The way he said that, the slight vulnerable twang, made Albert soften slightly, and he sighed and nodded. "Of course I do. You didn't level the whole town, so I suppose it isn't all too serious. Besides, that town has more bigots than cattle, I'm not saying they deserved it but perhaps it was something in the way of retribution." He wanted to change the subject, feeling a little uncomfortable about the memory of seeing Arthur destroying things with such ease. “Any particular reason you’re here? Or did you just stumble across me to help with my self preservation?”

Leaning on his hand, Arthur smiled fondly at the little photographer, relief pooling in his belly. “I actually thought you might like to go take some shots of some bears. I know where there’s a den, just on a cliff edge. Might be good for your project.”

Albert’s face lit up and he clapped his hands. “Oh, yes! Yes, that would be exquisite!” He began to pack up his equipment, a spring in his step. “Fantastic creatures, bears. So much raw power, they’re just muscle and might.”

Humming, Arthur nodded. “Oh, I know. Me and my friend hunted this bear, biggest one I ever saw. Nearly took his face off.” He rubbed his chin with a loud prickle noise, watching Albert pick up his bags. “Usually, I’d say don’t go anywhere near. But you’ve got me.”

“That I have!” Albert beamed. “As I always seem to. You’re my saving grace, Mr Morgan.” He walked closer to him. “So, am I taking my horse?”

Arthur snorted. “No, I’ll carry you.” He set his hand on the ground, and Albert paled slightly, stepping back a few paces. “Come on. You know I won’t hurt you.”

Swallowing thickly, Albert grit his teeth. “I am a coward, my friend. Being held hundreds of feet in the air by a monster - th-that is to say, tall gentleman - is not my idea of ideal transport.” He held up his hands shakily. “I don’t see you as a monster, Mr Morgan. I-I’m sorry.”

"I am a monster, Mr Mason. Now come on." Arthur beckoned him. "I'll put your bags in my pocket. I won't break anything, I promise."

After a moment of consideration, Albert groaned with a stroppy little wiggle, putting his camera, tripod and bag in Arthur's hand. He slipped them carefully into his inside pocket, then returned his hand to be beside Albert, smiling as he cautiously climbed into his palm, getting settled. "Now, slowly." He said, voice shaking a little.

"Slowly." Arthur affirmed, then lifted Albert not at all slowly. Although he thought he was being careful, Albert felt as though his stomach was left behind, lurching in a nauseating way as he was whisked to 150ft in the air. He retched slightly, pressing a coiled fist to his mouth as he tried to settle himself. He attempted to speak, but was nearly thrown forward as Arthur began to walk, squeaking and latching onto his thumb.

"Careful with me!" He whimpered, and Arthur pulled his hand close to his chest, his fingers curling protectively around Albert like the tendrils of some gigantic squid. His walking began to level out to a steadier pace, and that gave Albert a chance to look around. He could see over the tops of the trees, past rivers and valleys, all the way to the mountains. He saw distant train steam, the glimmer of sunlight on the lake, how the breeze played with the carpet of plants for miles, bending them this way and that. And above it all, was Arthur. He tore his eyes away from the breathtaking view to peer up at him.

From below, he wasn't as attractive. Albert could see up his nose, and he didn't have the same rugged profile. However, he was still intimidating in that way that made Albert's pulse quicken, the same flutter in his stomach as when he'd first been rescued by his knight in shining armour. He didn't quite understand the feeling, not wholly, but he was working it out, piece by confusing piece.

“You’re staring.” Arthur smirked, glancing at Albert, making his ears turn pink. “I know, this close and this big, really makes me a whole lot uglier.”

Albert stumbled over his words a little. “Wha- How did- You don’t-” He took a breath. “Mr Morgan, you cannot reasonably expect me to believe that you don’t think yourself to be a handsome specimen. If anything, the Herculean aura of might surrounding you only accentuates your looks. It adds to that dashing aesthetic of mighty cowboy.”

Arthur quirked a brow as he looked down at Albert. “I won’t hurt you if you agree with me, you don’t have to try that hard.”

“I wasn’t! I was being honest.” Albert squeaked, a little hurt that Arthur thought he was being insincere to save his own worthless hide. He sighed and looked back to the landscape, feeling as though he were flying. Rushing through the air, soaring over trees, waving to passing crows.

As Arthur approached the ledge where he knew there was likely to be a bear or two, he crouched by the cliff, noticing a rock carving. He’d have to note that down for Francis. Arthur passed him his things and Albert stepped onto the ledge, setting his tripod up outside the cave. "Lucky I brought my bag of meat."

"Ah. Your bag of meat." Arthur grinned as he knelt down, only just able to see over the edge. "I'll just be down here, let me know if you need me."

Albert shushed him, throwing some meat in the mouth of the cave, his hands shaky over the frame of the camera. He shushed Arthur again, turning to him. "Could you please breathe a little quieter?"

"Sorry." Arthur whispered, leaning back and covering his mouth and nose with his hand to try and keep silent.

A dark shape lumbered from the cave, drawn to the smell of the meat. Albert held his breath as he waited, knowing he'd only have one chance for the perfect shot. The bear looked at him, flattening its ears and roaring. The flash and loud click made it decide to attack, and Albert squealed as the beast charged him.

Fingers suddenly intruded, pinching the bear around its sides, lifting it skyward with a confused bellow. Arthur laughed to himself as he set the hamster-sized creature down at the base of the cliff, watching it run with a wail of fear.  
"Y'know, if you weren't here, I'd probably have eaten that. I ain't got too many rations left."

Albert put away his tripod, tilting his head. "You eat bear meat?" He asked, straightening his hat.

Arthur nodded. "It's pretty good. Like venison but sweeter." Peering inside the cave, he noted it was empty and looked back to Albert, holding out a hand for him. "Anything else you'd like to photograph? I got time."

Cautiously, Albert stepped into his palm, still a little shaken. "I rather think this escapade has worn me out. Oh, to have your nerves of steel."

Beginning to walk, Arthur found a clearing a little way away, and he sat down against a large boulder, sighing softly. "Mind if I stick around a bit? I'm usually the errand boy but I think I'm gonna get it worse now I'm like this. Need a bit of a break."

"O-Oh, of course not, I do enjoy your company." Albert smiled, and Arthur gently coaxed him to stand on his stomach, placing his bags on the grass beside him. Albert sat down, pink dusting his cheeks as he realised how soft and warm Arthur was. "It is a shame you have to resign yourself to thievery, Mr Morgan." He said as he settled, laying down on Arthur, his hat set aside. "Think of all the marvellous things you could do at your current size."

"Like what?" Arthur asked, beginning to watch the clouds. His fingertip moved to lazily brush against Albert, who gave an undignified yelp, only to dissolve into giggles as Arthur provoked his ticklish ribs. He pushed him away, but the finger returned to tenderly stroke his hair, which he didn't much mind.

Albert wondered if Arthur would comb his fingers through his hair if he was normal, but he supposed not. Like this, it was akin to petting a fancy mouse, not giving loving caresses to another. "Well, ah… You could build towns in days. Plough fields in moments. Oh, you could collect bounties like a farmer collecting eggs! Just pop them in your basket."

"I ain't lookin' to be a lawman. $5,000 bounty on my head, Al. Don't wanna tempt fate."

Looking around at him, Albert's eyes were a little wide. "My, aren't we a bad boy? I could turn you in, Mr Morgan."

Arthur suddenly pinned Albert firmly to his stomach with his fingertip, making him cry out as the wind was squeezed out of him. "Oh, you could, could you?" He growled, smiling viciously. "Well, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to do something terrible to you for even insinuating that, Mr Mason."

Albert was about to cry, about to beg, about to promise his silence, trade anything for his life. But Arthur simply nudged his side, digging his soft finger pads into his ribs, a garbled noise escaping him as he began to laugh hysterically, punching and kicking as he was tickled without mercy.  
"Ha, I got ya!" Arthur laughed to himself, taking care not to be too rough. He only stopped when tears were rolling down Albert's red face, his laughing punctuated by choking. "That'll teach ya."

Albert panted heavily, sprawled out on Arthur, wiping at his eyes. "Mr Morgan, truly you deserve that bounty. Lord above, if you tickle me again, I shall bite you and not let go." He put his hands over his ribs for good measure, and tried not to be too jostled by the booming chuckles of his large companion.  
They went back to watching the clouds, comfortable in their silence, Albert enjoying the rise and fall of Arthur's breath, and Arthur glad that Albert still trusted him enough to be this close.

"Mr Morgan?"

"Mm?"

"Even if your bounty was a million dollars, I wouldn't turn you in. Not even if I was penniless. Not for all the stars in the sky."

"Oh, I know, Albert. I know..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy to take suggestions!


End file.
